


(dulcius quam caelum) calidius quam infernum

by msbeeinmybonnet (beeinmybonnet)



Series: (like wines)  we intertwine [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian is a huge perv, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, They are Both Dorks, the Inquisitor is a perv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeinmybonnet/pseuds/msbeeinmybonnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevelyan drags Dorian away from his research for a mysterious reason. Said reason might involve Commander Cullen and the Iron Bull in various states of undress. (Mainly Dorian/Trevelyan friendship.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	(dulcius quam caelum) calidius quam infernum

**Author's Note:**

> Because in my head, Trevelyan and Dorian are BFF!necklace-wearing friends and nothing can convince me they haven't adopted each other as honourary siblings. I also have this headcanon that Dorian is really into endearments.  
> Oh, and the title is Latin for "(sweeter than heaven) hotter than hell" because I am trash.
> 
> Set mid-late Skyhold.

It was a surprisingly warm and sunny day — for the South — but Dorian did not have the time to appreciate it, holed up in his alcove with three tomes laid open before him and his _vade mecum_ of notes in his lap. He had yet to find any signs of Corypheus being tied to any house, though he did find out that the Porcelli had Almarri blood in them from only one Age past — how they ever managed to keep that part of their genealogy secret baffled him.

Just as he was thinking of how to best use this piece of scandalous information, he was distracted by light feet hurrying up the stairs. He turned his head and was met with a flushed and beaming Janneke Trevelyan making her way towards him. 

"Dorian! Put away those books, you have to come with me."

"I'm quite in the middle of something, _o lucifera_ ," Dorian pointed out but found his right hand clasped between both of hers, followed by a light tug. Compared to the unstoppable strength of Iron Bull, it was almost laughable, but it got the point across.

"Then take a break. As your Inquisitor, I order you to come with me."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at the 'command' but Janneke just bounced on her feet and bit back a smile, without letting go of his hand. Sighing, he put his vade mecum aside and got up from the chair. If she understood the sacrifice he made for her, Janneke didn't show it. With what could only be described as a squeal, she exchanged her two-hand grip to a one-hand one on his wrist and dragged him down the library stairs.

Solas gave them a disapproving frown as they passed him but didn't stop them. Dorian noted that Varric was missing from his customary spot by the fireplace as they entered the throne room, then almost ran into a group of Orlesian nobles before Janneke made a sharp turn to avoid them. She started giggling high and loud at the stunned looks on their faces and Dorian had to hold back a smile of his own. He saw Josephine by the edge of the group, looking more annoyed than amused, and he did not want to incur more of her wrath. 

"Was that the Inquisitor? And that... Tevinter magister?" he heard one of the confounded nobles ask as they passed. He grit his teeth and only didn't correct her — _how is the difference between a Magister and a mage so difficult for the South to comprehend?_ — because Janneke was pushing open the door to the garden and pulling him with her. 

As they made their way through the peristyle and the actual garden, Janneke kept calling "Excuse me!", "Coming through!", "Out of the way!" and "Inquisitor incoming!" as she zigzagged through the ever-present crowd. When they passed Mother Giselle, Dorian made sure to give her a particularly obnoxious smirk. Janneke then took a sharp turn into a small shelterbelt near the balustrade and Dorian had to duck to avoid getting a particularly thick branch in his face. He was nevertheless picking leaves out of his hair and robes when they emerged from the bushes, revealing a surprisingly secluded little nook, snug against the castle wall and with a perfect view of the courtyard below.

And what a view it was.

There was an unusual number of people watching the practice taking place in the sparring ring and for good reason. Instead of the usual soldiers honing their skills, Cullen himself was holding a demonstration with the Iron Bull. A _shirtless_ demonstration.

With a happy sigh, Janneke leaned her elbows on the balustrade, placing her chin in her hands. There was a distinct dreamy note in her voice as she explained, "Cullen is showing the recruits how to fight an opponent bigger than yourself."

Dorian assumed the lack of clothes was a side effect of the weather, rather than an intentional pedagogy. Having lived all his life in Tevinter with her oppressing summers, he was perfectly comfortable in light robes, but even the normally shy and modest Janneke was wearing a thin dress that ended just below her knee. So while that might explain the Commander's uncharacteristic display of pale skin and toned muscles, there was really no excuse for Iron Bull's lack of harness. Between his roots in Par Vollen and that thick skin of his, Iron Bull was very seldom bothered by the weather. 

Not that Dorian was complaining. _Not at all_. Both men had worked up a glistening sheen of sweat, highlighting the flexing muscles and taut sinews as they fought with dull wooden weapons. Cullen's skin had even taken on a mild rosy tint from the blazing sun — and his arse in those plain linen trousers looked simply divine. 

"Janneke, just how long were you watching our dear Commander before you went to fetch me?" Dorian asked as he turned to her, biting back a smirk at the absolutely besotted look on her face. She startled at the sound of his voice. 

"Hm? Oh, a while..." she replied vaguely as her flush darkened into a proper blush. Dorian raised an eyebrow and her shoulders tensed. Eventually she mumbled, "Krem might have told me that I was drooling on my dress."

Dorian threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, _dulcis sororcula_ ," he chuckled and her lips pursed in a most adorable pout. "You even make lechery look charming. You _have_ to tell me your secret."

"I'm not lecherous — you are," she protested with a flick of her ponytail. "I'm a virtuous ingénue, don't you know?" Her claim would have been more convincing if her eyes weren't sparkling and her lips twitching. 

Dorian let out a derisive snort, getting a light shove and an earful of giggling for it. As he returned to the delightful view below, he caught Varric standing by the edge of the crowd, which explained his earlier absence. He seemed to have fallen back on his role as the resident bookmaker — Dorian made a note to ask what the odds were on Iron Bull later. 

Which drew his attention back to the man in question.

Dorian faced the facts — their Commander was quite the delectable specimen, but Iron Bull had completely ruined him for all other men; tall as a man and a half, wide as three and with the strength to match. Incongruously, the lack of his customary harness made his already broad shoulders look even wider as they tapered into corded arms with massive hands. His barrel-chest was similarly ripped but even the belt and the high waist of his so-called trousers couldn't hide the hint of softness on his stomach.

It was quite possibly Dorian's favourite part of Iron Bull's body. It wasn't just the body of a warrior but one of a warrior who _lived_ ; one who celebrated life at the end of the day. As chiselled as his arms and legs were, Iron Bull's stomach appeared much less defined. Of course this was only an optical illusion because there was no part of his scarred and marred body that Iron Bull hadn't honed to perfection. Watching those firm muscles ripple under that layer of softness never failed to mesmerize Dorian into a stupor.

Either Dorian had been staring particularly loudly or the Ben-Hassrath training was rearing its head again, but in the midst of Dorian's appreciation for his form, Iron Bull lifted his head and met his eyes. Then he deliberately flexed his arm and blinked slow and exaggerated, the closest to a wink a one-eyed man could come. It was only then Dorian noticed Krem sitting on the fence, as the mercenary thumped his boss with his boot and rolled his eyes at him.

Dorian smiled wide and couldn't quite get it under control when he once again turned to Janneke. "I do believe that our _amantes_ truly love us."

"I know, we are so lucky," Janneke sighed, starry-eyed, not even able to tear her gaze away from her beloved Commander. Dorian gave her an affectionate pat on the head before he returned to admiring his own _amatus_ and his physical prowess in the ring. 

"Of course, this means we will have to rub them down later, maybe even stroke their egos."

"Best. Day. Ever."

**Author's Note:**

> Until Bioware releases a dictionary, Tevene is Latin:
> 
>  _O lucifera_ = "Oh, bringer of light" (feminine form of _lucifer_ )
> 
>  _dulcis sororcula_ = sweet little sister
> 
>  _amantes_ = lovers
> 
>  
> 
> Unbeta'd. Con-crit is always welcome.


End file.
